


The Whirligig of Time

by Annariel



Series: Season 2b [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternative Timeline, Female Protagonist, Gen, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-13
Updated: 2010-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/Annariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen finds herself in a timeline where the events of season 2 did not end the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whirligig of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Keenir (rodlox) for beta-reading.

Helen left the storage facility at a run, uncomfortably aware that the place would be crawling with the military before too long. It had all, she reflected, gone rather fubar. She was working hard not to think too closely about Stephen. Of course, bloody Nick had to stay to bloody watch, which was probably just as well, even if she couldn't see what purpose it served. There was an anomaly that should open in a couple of weeks which would take her to one of the nexus points. She was going to have to lie low somewhere until then.

* * *

The anomaly was inside a disused warehouse under a motorway arch. Helen itched to be gone. Piecing together the aftermath of Leek's little failed coup was a frustrating business. Either Lester or that Lewis woman had a stranglehold on the press which appeared to magically extend online. Leek and Stephen had officially died in a minor terrorist incident. Stephen got an official commendation. Leek didn't. There had been funerals. Helen hadn't gone. What, after all, was the point? Helen was ready and waiting when the anomaly opened and she headed straight through but, as she went, she recognised the sensation of being followed. There had been someone else in the warehouse. Whatever, let them take what chances they could.

# The Whirligig of Time

_And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges_

  
\- Shakespeare, Twelfth Night  


Helen stretched as she re-entered the twentieth century. It was an uncontrolled gesture. Humanity made her feel cramped and hemmed in. The way the houses crowded on either side of her where there should be the vistas of a wide plain. She was somewhere in Norfolk, not far from Norwich if her GPS told true. She hoisted her back pack and set off for the long walk.

In the event, it wasn't so long. She hit the A47 after an hour and managed to hitch a lift only about 10 minutes after that. He was a young delivery man, for some company she'd never heard of, with a van full of small mail order items. He was more chatty than she'd have liked, with a persistent belief that they had met somewhere before. After establishing that he'd never been anywhere near CMU, she blandly acquiesced to his assumption it must have been at Glastonbury. She had, in fact, once been to Glastonbury -- a muddy and argumentative dirty weekend with Stephen. But that was too long ago for this child to have been there.

She persuaded him to drop her off at a garage on the edge of town. He was keen to take her further in, but instinct told her to keep it ambiguous whether she intended to stay in Norwich or hitch a ride somewhere else. She was about to enter the small shop and purchase a few basic items to tide her over when she was brought up short by a picture of her face in the shop window.

"WANTED," it read. "Helen Cutter for suspected terrorism".

The small print warned that she was dangerous and not to be approached, which was some consolation. However her plans were going to have to change.

* * *

The garage backed onto a housing estate. Helen lost herself in its tastefully curving roads all called PRIMROSE DRIVE or TULIP TERRACE. Then she picked a house with no vehicle out the front and no visible alarm and vaulted over the fence. The back door lock was depressingly easy to pick, even given her fairly amateur knowledge of the skill.

Once inside she headed upstairs and to the wardrobes. The lady of the house, it would appear, was slightly larger than she was. On the plus side, baggy clothes were a lot less conspicuous than tight ones. Helen picked out a bland pair of tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt. There was no hair dye but plenty of make up, hats and sunglasses. Helen transferred her own clothes and the contents of her backpack into two brightly coloured squashy bags. She took the opportunity to clean up while she was about it. Satisfied she looked entirely unassuming and not at all like her WANTED poster, she left by the front door. She picked up the newspaper as she went, arrested by the headline "T. REX SIGHTING IN TUNBRIDGE WELLS". The article was frustratingly vague. It was a local paper and Tunbridge Wells too far away to be of much interest. It was only the T. Rex, it would appear, that had prompted the paper to report it at all. She needed to get onto the Internet. She almost went back in and hunted for a computer but it was nearly 4pm and she wanted to be well clear before the owners got back from work.

She hoisted her squashy bags awkwardly over her shoulders, wishing she could have kept the rucksack. The picture on the WANTED poster had her rather obviously holding onto its straps. Wearing a rucksack was too likely to subliminally trip someone's awareness of her identity so she would have to manage without. She set off down the road looking for a car that was old enough to hotwire.

* * *

Helen abandoned her stolen vehicle on the outskirts of Birmingham and caught a bus to the house she had once shared with Nick. Trying to contact him was more than a little risky, especially given the way things had ended. But she was reasonably confident she could get in and out before he had time to summon the goons and very confident that she could provoke him into revealing stuff. As she turned down the street though, she was arrested by the sight of a large "For Sale" sign outside the building. Undeterred, she fished out the set of keys she'd had cut last time she was there, and let herself in.

All Nick's furniture was there. In fact most of it was _their_ furniture but she doubted she'd be able to get it back now and wanted nothing to do with it even if she could. Slewing of the burden of possessions had been one of the first discovered and most surprising joys of her new lifestyle. At least it meant Nick still lived here. She moved through the house to Nick's study and the computer. It had been emptied. The desk and shelves were still there but the computer and the books and papers had all gone. Helen pursed her lips. She ran her hand over the desk and watched the thin trail of dust it left behind. So he'd left the furniture but taken everything he needed to work.

Swiftly she moved to the kitchen and checked the fridge and cupboards. They were also empty. There was no food in the place. She frowned a moment and then went to the tall cupboard in the living room where Nick kept his whisky. It was still there. Whoever had removed the food from the kitchen either wasn't interested in taking the alcohol or hadn't known it was there. She placed it back. It seemed unlikely Nick would have left it.

Last time she'd been here, she'd found all her old clothes in a cupboard in the spare room. She checked it now. It was empty, though she hadn't really expected Nick to keep them any longer. His clothes were still in the main bedroom. Whoever it was who had cleared this place out, it hadn't been Nick, of that she was pretty sure. There were lots of reasons that might have happened. She refused to consider the obvious one. For good measure she switched her sweatshirt for an old jumper of his and moved her belongings into a wheeled suitcase.

She paused with her hand on the knob, wondering if the jumper was a good idea. She tended to forget how evocative smell could be of memories, and the jumper smelled, indefinably, of Nicholas Cutter. Then she gave a mental shrug and opened the door.

A rifle butt appeared from nowhere and everything went black.

* * *

The interrogation room hadn't changed much since she had last been in it. Helen rolled her head experimentally, feeling where the pain was from the blow she had received. She observed the same blank walls, the same table and the same chairs. She stared ahead of her at the darkened far wall. She was fairly sure it was an observation window of some description.

The door clicked open and a woman came in. She was wearing an expensively tailored suit in a warm brown colour, accented by a gold silk blouse. Short, but expensively cut, brown hair framed a squarish face. She looked elegant, rather than beautiful. Everything about her projected calm sophistication. Helen's instincts screamed predator.

"Good afternoon," said the woman, seating herself opposite Helen.

Helen remained silent and stared studiously over the woman's shoulder. She wondered who was in the adjacent room observing them.

The woman made a disapproving noise but carried on. "Let me introduce myself. I am Lucia Wright, Home Office, Minister in charge of this facility."

Helen took a long slow breath. It was a trick she'd learned and practised. It helped keep your face impassive and conceal any show of surprise. Lucia Wright smiled at her.

"I imagine you were expecting James Lester."

Determined to give nothing away, Helen forced herself to remain to staring over the woman's shoulder.

"Let me enlighten you," continued the woman, as if Helen had been articulating the questions that buzzed around her head. "Lester and I have been working together for many months. I wanted to prioritise the Physics team. Lester very much concentrating on the more operational side of matters. Something of an error of judgement as it turned out."

Lucia was working up to something. Helen made eye contact. It was a concession, but she wanted to hear Lucia out and didn't want to get into a direct conflict just yet. Lucia smiled at her.

"I should thank you really," she said. "By encouraging Mr Hart to go to the Press you rather undermined Lester's position. When that was so closely followed by the little debacle involving Oliver Leek. Well," Lucia shrugged, "it was clear that his judgement was fatally flawed. More direct ministerial oversight was needed. Lester was shown to have had too much autonomy."

Helen's mind was racing. Stephen had never made it as far as a journalist, of that she was sure. But information about anomalies had obviously become public knowledge in her absence and she could see how that would be a problem for Lester and his policy of secrecy. Lucia was watching her closely in the silence.

"What do you want?" asked Helen.

Lucia smiled. "I can see we are going to get along famously. None of this tedious beating about the bush nor any need for lengthy explanations."

Helen cocked her head to one side. She wanted to convey 'get on with it'.

"Now," said Lucia, "I'm aware of your involvement with Oliver Leek but very few people have access to any hard information that links you to him. I hope you are aware, however, that your actions fall under the general heading of treason and that I will be going out on a considerable limb if I arrange for charges to be dropped."

"Why would you do that?" asked Helen. She tried to keep her tone unconcerned but every instinct she had was straining to go into fight or flight mode. Her sense that this woman was a predator was proving accurate. But she was clearly a dangerous political predator and Helen had no illusions that she would come off well in such a fight. Her only defence was to keep as much as possible hidden in order to provide the woman with as little ammunition as she could.

"I need a replacement for your husband," said Lucia bluntly. "Mr Hart does his best but he doesn't have the authority to command the team and naturally they blame him for being away at a press conference while your husband tried to contain Mr Leek's excesses."

Helen balled her hands into fists where they were handcuffed behind her. She dug her fingernails into her palms and struggled to focus on the immediate pain. She took several deep breaths as inconspicuously as she could, uncomfortably aware of the cold measured gaze upon her from across them room. She silence dragged on.

As soon as she could trust herself to speak steadily she said, "They're hardly going to be more receptive of my involvement."

"Maybe not," agreed Lucia, "but you have unique experience which would make you invaluable to the project. You have the seniority and academic qualifications that Mr. Hart sadly lacks and, from my point of view, you have the advantage of lacking any strong ties to Lester."

Helen considered several responses to the proposition, using the immediacy of the problem to push other thoughts and feelings to the back of her mind. She would have liked to have said "go to hell" to the viperish woman before her. In fact, she would have liked to have screamed and shouted and thrown things. Watching Lucia bloody Wright go down to a right hook would have been, just at this moment, intensely satisfying. But, right now, she was badly lacking in information and without information she was powerless. Moreover, that part of her brain that was good at reading and manipulating people told her that Lucia wanted her to be glad of, or at least indifferent to, Nick's death. She didn't trust herself to talk again just yet so channelled her energies into maintaining the same bland expression. When it became clear she wasn't going to speak Lucia began again.

"As well as dropping the charges against you, we wouldn't object to you taking up an academic post and working for the ARC on a consultancy basis," Lucia smiled once more, friendly and conspiratorial. Helen's distrust deepened. "You left academia nine years ago under, it must be said, something of a cloud. Your theories were widely being described as crackpot. I believe your husband even went so far as to express some embarrassment about them."

Lucia was still watching her closely, but Helen as sure of herself here. She'd spent years training herself not to react to snide remarks about her research or Nick's opinions about it. Keeping her face neutral was a cinch, though that gave her small comfort.

"I imagine," said Lucia, "that now your theories have been proved so spectacularly correct, universities will be falling over themselves to appoint you. Emergency funding for research into palaeontology was voted through parliament only last month. Almost every university is trying to bolster its research in the area and you have a decade's head start on all of them. Think about it Dr Cutter, you can pretty much demand your own terms. If you walk out of here, your name cleared, you'll be offered a chair at the university of your choice within the week. With your experience, the research councils won't be turning down any moderately well-written grant you put in. By the end of the year you can be leading the largest palaeontological research team in the country and the best bit will be that I won't have had to pull a single string on your behalf. It will all fall from the theoretical groundwork you laid down a decade ago and the rather unique fieldwork you've conducted since. Think about it."

Helen was thinking about it. It was a victory. A victory that tasted like ashes in her mouth, but a victory none the less.

"Do you accept?" asked Lucia.

"I accept," said Helen, keeping her voice clear and steady.

"Good!" said Lucia, "I'll set the paperwork in motion."

"There's one more condition," she added as she left the room.

"And that is?" asked Helen.

"Stick to the palaeontology. Leave the physics to the physicists and, more importantly, I don't want any experiments in changing history. I've read all the theories about Miss Lewis and Miss Brown and I don't like the implications. I don't want anyone messing about with time until the physicists have some sort of predictive theory. I hope I'm making myself clear."

"As crystal," said Helen and made a mental note. Someone had changed history since she was last in the twenty-first century. More to the point, someone had followed her through the anomaly in the warehouse. She watched the self-assured woman leave the room.

* * *

Helen let herself in to Lester's office without knocking. She didn't want to suggest any sort of subservience and, besides, he was perfectly aware she was there since he could see her through the glass walls. Jenny Lewis was with him. Helen decided to ignore her. She didn't have any practical place in the team anyway. Not now that the whole situation was public.

"Dr Cutter," said Lester wearily. "I imagine you would like to meet your new team."

"I've already met them," Helen pointed out.

Lester closed his eyes. "If you'd rather not be present when I break the news of your appointment to them then so be it. However I would like you to introduce yourself to them properly, as their new leader, _before_ the team is needed in the field."

The temptation to needle him further was quite high, however Helen bit her tongue and smiled sweetly. "Let's go meet them then," she said.

Stephen, Connor and Abby were gathered together in the centre of the ARC's main area, next to the anomaly detector. Lester led the way down to them, Helen walking behind him. She noticed that Jenny Lewis did not opt to walk beside them but instead lagged behind, distancing herself from the decision. Helen would be on her own here.

"Mr Hart, Mr Temple, Miss Maitland," said Lester, "we have had a new scientific team leader imposed upon us."

"I don't believe it!" said Stephen, looking at her with undisguised disgust.

Lester feigned surprised. "You have a problem? I suggest you take it up with Miss Wright. I'm sure she'd love to hear your opinion."

"Or the newspapers," Helen heard Abby mutter. What a happy little team she would seem to have inherited.

"Right," said Helen moving forward.

"Bastard," she muttered quietly to Lester as she passed. 'Imposed upon us' indeed, talk about signalling clearly Helen's lack of support. Lester arched his eyebrows but said nothing, merely stepping back.

"None of us are happy with this situation." She looked hard at the three young people in front of her. "But we need to make the best of it. We have a job to do and, in the current circumstances, the four people with the most expertise in handling prehistoric creatures are standing right here. Lives are going to depend on us working together. No one is asking us to socialise."

"Why are you helping us now, all of a sudden?" asked Connor.

It was a good question. Why was she helping them? Because Lucia had threatened her? Because Lucia had bribed her? Because something was up and her best chance of finding out what lay here at the heart of the ARC? Because she was doing what she did best, surviving, observing and awaiting her opportunity?

She needed an answer that was honest, in so far as it went, and would satisfy them. They stared at her expectantly.

"I'm no happier that Nick is dead than any of you are," she said.

Abby gave a small nod. The explanation worked for her at least. Stephen looked away, unwilling to meet her eyes but didn't contradict her. Connor just looked miserable. Helen itched to see Jenny's face but she was behind her somewhere and it would give too much away to turn around at this point.

Into the silence intruded the wail of the anomaly detector.

* * *

Helen let Stephen drive to the anomaly site. He sat in stoney silence in the front of the four by four, his eyes glued to the road, refusing to look at her. She decided to let him sulk for a bit, if only because he was pretty when he pouted. She switched on the radio, already tuned, it seemed, to the military wave lengths.

"Pigs by the look of it..." came a voice. It was vaguely familiar so it must have been one of the soldiers she'd already met.

"Wild boar more like," contradicted a second voice. Helen permitted herself a small smile. That was the one called Kermit. She remembered him.

There was the sound of gunfire. "Make that bad tempered wild boar," returned the first.

"Captain Lyle," broke in Lester's voice, "could we have a coherent report of the situation please?"

"It's a multi-storey car park, sir," returned Lyle's voice. "We seem to have a pack of some sort of wild boar here."

A hand sneaked over her shoulder from the back seat and picked up the handset.

"What do they look like?" asked Connor.

"Big, hairy, bad-tempered pigs with tusks," came Lyle's voice.

Connor rolled his eyes at her. "Anything else? Anything distinctive? How big?"

"About five foot maybe. The tusks grow out sideways, if that's any help."

"Metridiochoerus," guessed Helen.

Connor glanced at her, seemed to remember who she was, and retreated into the back seat in silence.

"If I'm right we'll need peanut butter," said Helen. No one responded. Stubborn bastards.

* * *

Captain Lyle and a special forces team were assembled at the entrance to the car park when they arrived. The place was in chaos, with panic stricken members of the public frantically trying to escape and the soldiers trying to scare off the creatures without hurting any civilians.

"Can you organise an evacuation?" Helen asked Jenny.

Jenny nodded and started work. Helen was impressed in spite of herself. Within minutes Jenny had corralled most of the public and cleared a space around the entrance. This allowed the soldiers to take up a position with decent sight lines. From somewhere Jenny produced a megaphone and began relaying information about exit routes to the upper floors.

Helen crouched near one of the soldiers and tried to get a clear view of what they were up against. There was what looked like a tightly knit pack of furry bodies inside the car park. She began to creep forwards but felt a heavy hand on her shoulder keeping her back.

"And where do you think you're going?"

She looked up into the unfriendly face of Captain Lyle.

"I need a closer look for identification."

She saw him hesitate. In some ways he was completely transparent and he was having a little internal battle between his desire to see her gored by a prehistoric pig and his orders to keep her safe. She batted her eyelashes at him and thrust her chest forward, more from habit than anything else.

"You're staying right here," he said. "We have some footage."

The 'footage' was low resolution and poorly lit but there was enough for Helen to confirm her guess of Metridiochoerus.

"Connor! Abby!" she called.

They trailed over, Abby in the lead with a mutinous expression on her face. Connor pulled along in her wake, laptop in hand. Helen had left Stephen in the car. He still wasn't talking to her.

"I need peanut butter," Helen said. "Plenty of it. Find the nearest cash and carry and requisition a few catering jars of the stuff."

"Why?" asked Abby.

Helen gave an exaggerated sigh. "Because they really love the stuff and will chase after the smell." She looked at Abby's suspicious face. "I did find some useful stuff out during the nine years I spent in pre-history," she added, irritated.

Abby snorted but turned to go. "Come on, Connor!" she called.

Helen was surprised when Connor gave her a rueful smile before heading off after Abby. She watched him go in vague exasperation. He was obviously a clever lad, but apparently didn't have the staying power to hold a good grudge. It was probably just as well he had Abby to watch out for him.

Helen headed over to where Jenny was talking to a bunch of people who looked suspiciously like journalists. Helen watched as the cameras switched to focus on her, one by one, as she approached. She eyed them warily. They weren't exactly predators in the way Lucia was, but there was a distinct pack-like body language and it was a pack that hadn't quite decided which way to jump. Once again she revised her opinion of Jenny Lewis. She was going to need her to manage these people. "Can I have a word?" she asked Jenny.

Jenny smiled sweetly at the journalists. "Give me ten minutes and I'll have something for you," she told them.

"Really?" asked Helen as they walked away.

"I assume you know what those things are," said Jenny.

"Yes."

"No harm in telling them then and it'll keep them onside. Don't talk to any of them yourself though. I'm going to hold out an exclusive interview with you to a couple I particularly want to cultivate. It'll let us control the situation better."

Helen eyed her narrowly, but she'd never been one to ignore the advice of someone who clearly knew what they were doing, so she nodded. It was going to be hard to dismiss Jennifer Lewis, she was beginning to think.

"I need a cherry picker."

"What's the name of the creature?"

"Metridiochoerus."

Jenny produced a note book. "How's that spelled? What do they look like? Any salient points?"

"M E T R I D I O C H O E R U S. They look like wild boar with sideways pointing tusks. The soldiers have some footage though it's not very good. They like peanut butter, as do modern wild boar, as it happens."

Jenny nodded. "Good. I'll get you that cherry picker," and she turned back to the press.

"I have a name for you. I'm going to spell it out..." she started saying.

"What am I going to do?" Stephen was suddenly at her elbow. Helen glanced at her watch. It had taken precisely ten minutes for him to get bored of sulking in the car.

"You and I, Stephen, are going to go in there and find the anomaly so we know which floor to get the cherry picker to deliver the peanut butter to."

"We should take Lyle and a team."

Helen looked across at the special forces. They didn't like her or trust her and the feeling was mutual. Stephen probably didn't like her much either but at least she knew him well enough to anticipate his actions. She shook her head.

"We're just scouting. They'll get in the way."

She sauntered up to Captain Lyle who scowled back at her.

"Stephen and I are going in. We'll need comms and tranquilliser rifles."

"No."

"None of your men are hunters or trackers Captain. We're going to go in, keep out of the creatures' way, find the anomaly, and report back. You can send men in with us if you like but you'll only make us more conspicuous and I'm not guaranteeing their safety."

"You're a heartless bitch aren't you?"

"I get things done, if that's what you mean."

"I'll check with Lester," he said. "You'll find what you want in the van. Stephen has clearance to sign it all out."

Helen turned on her heel and headed for the van. "Come on, Stephen," she called.

* * *

Lester must have given orders to let her have her own way because Lyle let her through without comment when she returned with guns and headsets. He bowed sardonically as she walked passed though.

She and Stephen hugged the walls as they moved round the edge of the space. Fortunately it was pretty open, apart from a few pillars and two central stairwells. This made it immediately obvious there was no anomaly on the ground floor. In total, the car park had six floors, with exits to the neighbouring shopping centre on the fourth. They'd evacuated most of the civilians out by those exits and there had been no sightings up there. Helen's best guess was that the anomaly was on the second or third floor.

Most of the Metridiochoeruses were milling around near the bottom of one of the ramps. They were keeping a wary distance away from the exit with its soldiers and guns. There was a pedestrian staircase close to where Helen and Stephen stood. Helen nodded at it.

"We go up there and then check the next floor."

Stephen nodded. They made a dash for the staircase. Fortunately the boar paid them little attention. Helen breathed a little easier once the stairwell door shut behind them. It wouldn't hold out against a determined attack but it kept them hidden. The two of them made their way up to the second floor.

"I'll go first," said Stephen when they reached it.

Helen bit back an exasperated retort. After all, if he wanted to take all the risks who was she to stop him? One thing she didn't have, was a death wish. She followed him out of the door. The second floor had some sort of division down the middle. Cautiously, Helen and Stephen headed between the rows of cars so they could work their way round it.

Suddenly Helen caught a movement a her peripheral vision. She glanced sideways and saw a lone boar between the cars beside her. It lowered its head and began to charge.

Helen swore and leaped onto the car next to her. Stephen followed moments later. The boar head butted the car which shook underneath them. The alarm went off. Stephen took aim at it with his tranquilliser rifle but staggered as the creature hit the car again.

"This way," said Helen and leaped to the next car.

Stephen followed her and dropped to one knee sighting on the boar as it came round the car towards them. He let off a shot and then it collided with the car they were on. Helen over-balanced, but managed to convert her fall to yet another jump. Stephen followed her to the third car. They waited there a few seconds but, when the boar didn't appear, Helen cautiously jumped back the way they had come and peered over the edge of the car. The creature was sleeping peacefully on the ground.

"Any more?" asked Stephen.

Helen stood up and closed her eyes, stretching her hearing. She could hear the main pack on the floor below but couldn't detect anything moving up here. She shook her head.

"I don't think so."

They climbed off the cars and headed past the concrete bunker in the centre of the car park. Once around the corner the anomaly was directly ahead of them, bisecting a mini.

"We've found the anomaly." Helen reported into her radio.

* * *

Connor and Abby both rode up in the cherry picker. Abby had a large cardboard box containing four catering-sized jars of peanut butter. Connor had a digital camera.

"What's that for?" asked Helen.

"The database. I haven't got a good picture of these yet."

Helen looked at Abby. "Stay here with him. Don't let him wander off into the car park. Are you armed?"

Abby nodded and showed Helen a tranquilliser pistol.

"What if I need to get close to one?" asked Connor.

"You don't," returned Helen. "Stay here."

She took the cardboard box from Abby and headed to the anomaly.

"What's the plan?" asked Stephen.

She handed him two jars of peanut butter.

"Get yourself somewhere safe and then open these. I want the boars up here. I'll go through the anomaly and open the others on the far side. Once the boars are up here, close these jars. They should then go through the anomaly."

"What about you?" asked Stephen.

Helen shrugged. "I'll be fine."

Before he could object she headed through the anomaly. She was in some kind of forest. Late Pliocene would have been her guess. She took a deep breath, mentally contrasting the smell of rotting plant matter with the stink of petrol from the car park. The late Pliocene wouldn't have been her first choice of destination, but she knew there were other anomalies in the era and the things did tend to cluster. She should be able to find her way on and out. But first she needed to put a pack of Metridiochoerus between her and any pursuers. Carefully she put the box of peanut butter down and began unscrewing the jars.

She heard a cry from the other side of the anomaly. It sounded distinctly like Stephen. Helen hesitated a second and then plunged back through to the car park, rifle at the ready. Stephen was underneath a boar, beating at it ineffectually with his rifle butt. Helen aimed at it and shot. Then she strode, as confidently as she could, towards the herd and grabbed Stephen by the scruff of the neck, hauling him up from under the sleeping creature and onto the nearest car. She grabbed the jar of peanut butter he was holding and undid the top. She wafted it in the direction of the herd of creatures. Once she had their attention she tossed it through the anomaly. Several of the herd chased it and, seconds later, the rest followed. Helen looked down at Stephen in irritation.

"Thanks," he said.

The anomaly pulsed once and closed. Helen swore quietly under her breath. She really shouldn't have come back for him. As far as she was concerned he was dead anyway and she'd just lost her opportunity to get out of this reality and start putting things back how they should be.

"Just looking after my team," she said sweetly, jumping down from the car. She used the opportunity to flash a smile in the direction of Connor and Abby as well who, she noted, were already out of the cherry picker. She should really have left them to rescue Stephen. Sometimes, she reflected, she let her instincts get the better of her.

Abby ran up to them and gave Stephen a hug, shooting Helen a look of pure distrust as she did so.

"I thought you'd had it there," she said.

"So did I."

Connor hovered in the background, looking between them all, before letting Abby pull him into the hug with Stephen. The little minx, thought Helen as she walked away. But at least it meant the three of them might start working together again. There was nothing like a common enemy. Possibly that was why Lucia had put her in charge, which meant, of course, that Helen's position was even more precarious than she had at first thought.


End file.
